Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,103

and dismissive, like he just wants to get me out of his face. Fine by me. “I expect further proof before I can sign your final paperwork.”

I jerk my chin in a nod, which is the only acquiescence I’m willing to give. I have everything I need to take down the entire club, right in my pocket.

But I won’t.

Collins must be a special kind of stupid for not seeing the Devils for what they are: my territory. I don’t care if they’ve rebranded. I don’t care if they don’t want me. I don’t care about the new rules, or rituals, or the color of their stupid fucking robes. I’ve been kicked out of school, my circles, my family, and my own goddamn home.

I see the smug expression on Collins’ face as he looks over that list, and I just want to laugh. You’d think after all this time, he’d understand.

A Devil never loses.

I only see Georgia once over the weekend.

I’m just about to head out to the club for a quick interview with a local DJ. Saturdays are always our biggest nights, usually enough to make even Gene back off a bit. It’s got me in a better mood than I’ve seen in a while, and the fact that I’m coming off a solid six uninterrupted hours of sleep probably helps, too.

That must be why when I see her in the parking lot, back resting against the tire of my Escalade, the first thing I feel is a fierce spike of satisfaction.

She’s spread a light sweater across the pavement to sit on and she’s…knitting? These two metal rod things are bobbing around in her hands, up and down, side to side, a long line of yarn disappearing into a tote bag beside her. When her eyes rise at my approach, there’s this split second where she looks relieved—shoulders dropping, chest expanding on an exhale.

It’s gone just as fast, face shuttered, cheeks bursting with a sudden, vivid pink. Her mouth presses into a tight slant when she stands, tucking her things into her bag. We stare at each other as she loops it over a shoulder, fingers curled around the strap.

Clearly still pissed I wouldn’t lick her pussy.

“I need it,” she says, voice clipped as she looks away first.

But she’s keeping her word.

I keep the smirk from my face, pressing my key fob to unlock the doors. “Get in.”

Things are tense inside the car, but I don’t really feel it, and I don’t actually give a fuck. As soon as I back out, I press a palm to the back of her head and push her down toward the dash.

“Hey!” she says, shooting me a furious glare as she jerks away.

“Someone will see you,” I explain, using the hand on the steering wheel to point at the campus up ahead.

She slaps my arm away. “Use your words, asshole! God.” Nevertheless, she ducks down low, turning her head just enough to show me the vicious expression on her red face. It only hardens at the sound of my chuckle. “Fuck you.”

“Patience,” is my wise reply, trundling through the lot and up to the gate. I have to roll down my window and stretch to swipe my staff parking card.

“You’re in a good mood.” It comes out sounding more like an accusation than anything. “It’s annoying.”

I don’t argue either point, waiting until I’m past the intersection on the east side of campus, to give her head a tap. “All clear.”

The fact that my dick’s already hard is a bit of an issue. In no universe should I be this worked up at the mere prospect of getting some pussy. It only gets worse when she straightens, huffing as she smooths out her red hair. She’s wearing this tight shirt, neckline scooping low enough to show her cleavage. I never understood how guys could find those school uniforms hot. This is hot, the pale, delicate tops of her tits peeking out of her top. She’s wearing a necklace, and the little golden cross pendant that’s hanging from it settles into the ridge of her cleavage, in serious danger of being smothered.

She flings a hand out at the road, sighing. “Seriously? You just ran a stop sign.”

My eyes dart away from her tits, teeth clenching.

By the time we reach our destination—a patch of dirt overlooking the lake—my dick is throbbing and far too eager. The last time I was here, the girl in my passenger seat was Reagan. It was really annoying at the time.